Free Blood Bond 3 by William W. Johnstone

Baker, Allison—to mention a few. You’re a hard man, Matt Bodine. I think we better talk.”
    â€œIs that an order?”
    â€œIt could be,” Finch said softly. “If you push me to it.”
    â€œYou a drinking man, Ranger?”
    â€œI have been known to tipple now and then.”
    â€œLet’s find us a quiet table and a cool beer.”
    â€œThat’s the best offer anyone’s made me in some time.”
    The wagons were moved to a shady location just outside of town while Matt and Sam talked with the Ranger.
    â€œYeah,” Finch said, draining his beer mug and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “John Lee’s name has been mentioned around headquarters more’un once. The governor is gettin’ tired of people sayin’ there ain’t no law west of the Pecos. I’m a-fixin’ to change all that.”
    â€œBy yourself?” Sam asked.
    â€œYep,” the small quiet man said. “Soon as I track down these murderers.”
    â€œFinch,” Matt said, “John Lee probably has fifty gunhands on his payroll . . .”
    The men looked out the window as Terry Perkins and Jay Hunt rode slowly out of town. Perkins had a bloody rag tied around his mouth and Jay Hunt’s hat was sitting his head cockeyed from the big knot put there by an axe handle.
    â€œI guess you done that, too?” Finch questioned.
    â€œMe and an axe handle,” Matt said.
    Finch sighed and shook his head.
    â€œAs I was saying, Lee has a lot of men on his payroll. Some of them snake-mean. How do you propose to bring law and order when you’re looking down the barrels of that many guns?”
    â€œYou don’t shoot a Texas Ranger, son. Makes other Rangers irritable. I know a Ranger tracked a man for five years. Finally found him in a fancy eatin’ place in New York City. Whupped him right there in front of God, the mayor, and everybody else. Throwed him on a train and brung him back to Texas. We allowed him a fair trial and then hanged him. Bad business shootin’ a Texas Ranger.”
    Matt then realized all the wild tales he’d heard about the Texas Rangers over the years were more than likely true—or at least had a vein of truth running through them. Matt had a hunch this small, quiet Ranger would track a man through the gates of Hell and if braced would kill you in a heartbeat.
    â€œJeff Sparks and Ed Carson are good decent men, Finch. If they weren’t, neither Sam nor me would have thrown in with them.”
    â€œI don’t doubt that at all.”
    â€œAnd as you saw today, if lead is to fly, then so be it.”
    â€œI shore enough seen that. But you hear this: if the governor has to send in the militia, he’s gonna be one irritated man. It’s bad enough we had all them goddamn Yankee carpetbaggers and reconstructionists in here; now things are gettin’ back to normal and we’re beginnin’ to run our own lives. The last thing he needs is a range war.”
    â€œHe’s got one,” Sam said bluntly.
    â€œI’ll be along in about a week,” the Ranger said. “I found out where these murderers is hidin’ and I’ll head there. I hope to take them alive, but I ain’t countin’ on it. I figure they’ll go down smokin’. If that’s the case, I won’t have to tote them back, and that’ll save me some time.”
    Sam looked at the man closely to see if he was kidding. He was not. If Finch even had a sense of humor, he kept it well hidden.
    â€œYou married, Finch?” Sam asked, interested in this small intense lawman.
    â€œWas. Outlaws killed her back in sixty-six. I’d just come home from the war and we was tryin’ to pick up the pieces of our lives. We was just kids when we got married. Took me four years to track those no-goods down. But I done it. Found the last one in a canyon in Idaho. Shot him in the belly and left them there. I